Forest
by Ryuuko
Summary: Apocalyptic fanfic. Vincent and Sephiroth encounter. Minor sexintheforst warning. Turn on System of a Down's


**Forest**

**   
  
** The icy northern gusts swirled all around them, but no one noticed. There was a barrier here, run on some eternal furnace, just over this one place where all the chaos spinning around canceled itself out and left a patch of tranquility.  
Relative, weather-wise tranquility, at least.  
How long they had been fighting, desperately, to save the world from its premature end, no one knew or kept track. They bunched their attacks in waves, magic followed by summons followed by rounds of hard combat, healing all-around, more magic.  
He would wear down eventually, they knew, but they didn't know if they could last that long themselves.  
Raising one hand, metal glinting off its synthetic surface, he silently but effectively called everyone's attention. There was a look in his eyes, battle lust in its purest form burning inside a born fighter and an engineered monster, but even behind that, the guilt was still there. Not all of them could wonder why, and only a few could even imagine.  
But still, they understood. They would let him finish this one, because while they all had their reasons to fight, he truly had the only right. They each stepped down, away from the patch of meteorological calm.  
Left alone, the two looked each other in the eye. The use for physical combat was over now, the only thing left was for them to see each other, themselves, and understand.  
His own crimson eyes never wavered as he wondered if he knew, trying to gaze past the film of madness glazing over those violent aquamarine whirlpools, if he wasn't too far gone that he didn't know who he was, what he was, and if he knew, why was he still here? He let his mind open, his eyes closed, so he would stop seeing and only show.  
  
_They stood in a forest, deep within the trees, devoid of animal life. Matched height for height, side by side, he pointed, one half-gloved hand guiding his line of vision to a clearing just beyond their patch of trees, waited.  
A woman was led on an impromptu trip by a man, so impromptu it was like they practically left in the middle of work. Her lab coat buttoned neatly up the front, stoppered test tubes spilled out of her pocket. Her neat bun of hair falling apart as he dumped his gun and she his jacket over a bush and playfully tackled her into the patterns of leaves, undisturbed all season in the middle of nowhere. She giggled, almost protesting as he helped her rid of that coat, mentioning something about losing all her samples. This near-protest was neatly silenced by firm lips over her mouth, sucking out her words and her breath and her doubts all in one shot.  
The rest of their clothes shortly followed the fate of the lab coat, forming their own little pile in emulation of the scattered foliage. Time seemed to pass in a moment, but a moment that lasted in an eternity of muffled sounds of pleasure.  
They laid in each other's embrace, just enjoying being in the other's vicinity, nestled comfortably between a warm, sculpted indentation of crunching leaves and clothing. She allowed herself to relax only for a moment more, but then casually mentioned that she will be missed back at the lab.  
It was almost as if the warmth of the atmosphere had withdrawn back inside of him and became sealed again within a cold, steel vault as it occurred to him who might also miss her. Without a word, he picked his own clothes out of the damp, tangled heap, dressed himself, and left, brushing leaves from his pants and hair as he did.  
_  
The crazed stare of the madman was gone now, the film coating his gaze melting away to confusion. He looked down at his bare and bloodied body, hearing for the last time the pulling of the voices that bid him do their will.  
His fingers ran over the length of the aptly named Death Penalty, stroking the one bullet left.  
It had to count.

They stood silently, facing away from the eye of the storm, waiting. Nothing more could be said now, nothing more could be done.  
A single shot rang out, cracking through the winds like shattered glass. One by one they turned to see, crossing back into the deathly still threshold.  
Two bodies lay together, done by a single bullet from the smoking, hot barrel of the gun that was meant to fire the final shot.  
  
And then the world ended. 


End file.
